


Coming or not?

by BlackStar3991



Series: Harringrove [8]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Hurt Steve, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, Protective Billy Hargrove
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 23:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18271271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackStar3991/pseuds/BlackStar3991
Summary: “Keep your head up, moron. Never had a bloody nose before?” The angry tone is undermined by the protective hand he places on Steve’s back to guide him.“Fuck off” Steve complains, stepping a bit closer so that their shoulders touch._______Steve gets injured during a basketball practice, and Billy gets protective.





	Coming or not?

**Author's Note:**

> I'M BACK, MY GOOD BITCHES!  
> My mom just retired and now she's home a lot (both of which are great <3), but that also means constant interruptions when I sit down to write (which is shit).  
> But oh, well.
> 
> What I mean is that I've been trying to write this for the past few days (weeks), but I'm not about to write slash fics with my mom behind me, lol, so it took a bit (lot) longer.
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

Today’s basketball practice barely began and it’s already one of the hardest of the year. Not because of the game itself – Steve is barely paying attention to that. Which kinda is the problem. The thing is, if he’s being honest with himself, he has always noticed Billy on the court. How could he not? But after they started to get closer, and Steve started seeing him differently, well... And this is the first time in a few weeks that Billy plays shirtless. Not that Steve was counting days since the last time or anything, of course. 

And it makes him happy to see that the boy finally shows no bruises, no cuts, anything. Just that smooth tanned skin (how the fuck does he stay tanned in the goddamned fall, anyway?)… “Fuck, pay attention, Steve!” he yells in his own head. 

Someone is cursing at him in the background for missing the ball or something. Oops. Right now Steve is straining himself to divide all attention between ‘Looking At Billy’ and ‘Stop Staring At Billy You Moron’. He’s lucky he can get away with it, though. Since they are on opposing teams, Billy is shamelessly marking Steve and being all over him at every chance he gets. Steve makes sure to throw insults here, now and then – so everyone else thinks they are fighting and just being very competitive, instead of... you know, whatever it is they’re doing. 

Trying his best at focusing on the game, Steve sees an opportunity to do something useful while Billy is being marked by someone else. He allows himself a quick glance at the other boy, who notices it and winks at him from across the court with a smirk on his face. Steve’s heart skips a beat and, not knowing how to act cool otherwise, he decides to look away. From somewhere really close, comes a thud that makes him feels weird, and: 

“AW FUCK, HARRINGTON!” 

Steve hears an angry voice yelling at him from above. Above...? A little less confused, Steve finds himself sitting up from where he was lying flat on his back, the ball that hit him square on the face is slowly rolling away. His team mates seem to be divided between asking if he’s okay and yelling at him for not paying attention. They’ve got a point, though. 

“Shit...” Steve mumbles, taking a hand to his head. 

“Steve? You okay?” Billy is kneeling beside him, a firm yet gentle hand squeezing his shoulder. 

“Ugh... I’m fine...” 

He feels like a cartoon with stars spinning around him. His face is very warm – too warm – and he notices an increasing red stain on his shirt. Steve brings a hand to his nose and feels a bit queasy when it comes back bloody. How stupid is this? After all he went through with the demogorgon and demodogs, after all the insane near-death situations... Steve feels queasy from a bloody nose (to be fair, there’s a lot of blood). The thought makes him huff out a small laugh. 

Frowning, Billy asks with a more alarmed voice: 

“Man, are you sure?” 

“Yeah, hm...” Steve cleans his throat to give his foggy brain some time to think. 

“He’s fucking fine.” Brad, the guy who accidentally hit Steve, interrupts “Just get him out of there, so those of us who actually wanna play can go on!” 

“How about you shut your fucking mouth?” Billy asks through his teeth. 

“I’m just saying. King Steve here didn’t play shit. And it’s his own fault if he can’t even catch a fucking throw.” 

Judging by Billy’s hard eyes and clenched up jaw while Brad talks, Steve knows full well what’s about to happen. The hand on Steve’s shoulder twitches almost imperceptibly and is taken away. 

“Look here, you fucking...” As Billy is getting up with a fluid movement, ready to pounce on the guy, Steve has half a second to grab his hand before it happens. 

“No, leave it! Just leave it!” Steve blurts out pulling Billy back by his wrist. 

While most of the others were standing back as to not get involved, some were positioning themselves to either stop the fight or take sides, and the air got tense. Still sitting on the floor and with his face already throbbing, there isn’t much Steve can do. He feels a wave of relief when Billy hesitates instead of getting himself free of Steve’s hand (witch he could easily do) and throwing punches. But Billy is still locked on his death stare towards Brad - who is glaring back but has already retreated some steps -, so Steve asks again: 

“Come on, man, it’s not worth it.” Steve gives his wrist another tug “Just help me up.” 

Billy huffs out annoyed and turns back to dizzy boy on the floor, turning his hand so that Steve could pull himself up. At this point, the coach comes back from the bathroom asking everyone what the hell is going on, and most of the players scatter. Steve says it was just an accident and refuses his suggestion of going to the school’s nurse. As the coach is about to insist, Billy steps in: 

“It’s okay, I can take him back to the locker room to put something on his nose.” 

Taking another look at Steve, the coach shrugs and agrees, hurrying them away to take care of that. As the boys head off, they can hear the rest of the team going back to the game. Billy glares at Steve and mumbles: 

“Keep your head up, moron. Never had a bloody nose before?” The angry tone is undermined by the protective hand he places on Steve’s back to guide him. 

“Fuck off” Steve complains, stepping a bit closer so that their shoulders touch. 

Billy guides him to one of the long benches between the lockers and tells Steve to sit down while he gets some toilet paper. Steve does as he is told, and stretches his arms and shoulders, wincing slightly. 

“What’s wrong?” Billy asks as he comes back. 

“Nothing. I think my shoulder is gonna bruise. Did I fall that hard?” 

“Like a goddamn potato sack.” he grins. 

Billy sits on the bench and turns so that he has one leg on each side, facing Steve’s hurt shoulder. 

“Here,” he gestures with chunks of toilet paper which Steve takes, “plug it up.” 

“Ow...” Steve groans when he puts the rolls on his nose “Did he break my fucking nose?” 

"Nah,” Billy lets out a small laugh, “let me see.” 

Gentle fingers cradle Steve’s jaw and make him turn his head so that Billy could inspect the damage. Steve’s breath almost hitches, but he’s being so careful to not blow away the paper on his nose that he manages to hide it. He’s at an awkward angle, with his head raised to stop the bleeding, but he can still see the blue eyes so close to his face. 

“Yeah, I know broken noses. It’s all good, just give it a second.” The hand leaves his jaw as Billy straightens his back “Don’t worry, you’re still pretty” Billy smirks and adds with a wink. 

“Oh yeah, haven’t you heard?” Steve comments in spite of the flutter in his stomach, “Bloody paper up your nose is the latest thing in Paris.” 

Billy is opening his mouth to reply when he notices Steve flexing his wrist absentmindedly. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Kinda. Maybe I fell on it. But it’s no big deal.” 

Billy reaches out and take Steve’s forearm, using both hands to turn it over and flex it with care. Steve couldn’t help lowering his raised head and watching Billy – he's always so angry and aggressive; Steve wonders if he’s the only one who gets to see this softer and friendly Billy, who seems actually concerned by this minor injury. Steve’s lips quirk up in a fond smile. 

“Yeah, you probably did.” Billy agrees while looking up at Steve’s eyes. “Why didn’t you let me kick his ass?” 

“What?” 

With Steve’s hand still on his, Billy brings them down to rest on his own thigh, the other hand resting on Steve’s forearm. The warmth radiating from Billy’s skin brings back those persistent butterflies to Steve’s stomach. 

“I was ready to fuck him up and you stopped me. And don’t tell me he didn’t deserve it.” 

“Idiot.” Steve rolls his eyes, “If I hadn’t stopped you, the coach would get back and just see you in a fight. Again. You’re not getting a detention because of me.” 

“I don’t give a shit about that.” 

“Well, tough shit, I do!” 

Something crosses through Billy’s face at that - something like surprise or maybe confusion –, and he doesn’t respond. Steve turns his hand where it rests between Billy’s hand and thigh, playfully caressing Billy’s fingers with his own and kind of intertwining them. Taking advantage of the silence that fell, Steve asks with a low voice: 

“Is it still that surprising that I care about you?” 

Billy is quiet for a second longer, chewing on his bottom lip. He glances at Steve then back at their joined hands, giving it a soft squeeze. 

“Guess not.” He half whispers, “Or maybe a bit.” he adds, making both chuckle. 

Not breaking eye contact, Billy raises his free hand and tucks some stray hair behind Steve’s ear. With his face feeling particularly on fire, Steve can barely manage a thought. All he wants to do is close the distance and go for those lips, but... Well, for one, he still has toilet paper up his damn nose, and that doesn’t really scream romance. But also, he promised himself he would go on Billy’s rhythm. 

Billy’s gaze slides down to Steve’s lips, and Steve can swear he starts moving ever so slowly. It’s the loud noise, indicating that the team is heading back to the lockers, that makes them both draw back. Steve could have punched each and every one of them right the fuck now. Instead, he just holds back an annoyed sigh. Cleaning his throat and looking around, Billy says: 

“Hum... I think you can take those off.” He motions to Steve’s nose. “Try it out.” 

“Ah. Right.” Steve carefully removes the paper and feels only some dried blood poking at his skin. 

“So. You should do something about that bruise, though. Still got that lotion thing at home?” 

“Yeah. It’s always in my bedroom” Steve says; ‘hoping you won’t need it’, he completes in his mind. 

Steve is not sure whether he understood the invitation correctly or if it’s just wishful thinking. Still sitting on the bench, he watches Billy get up. The boy looks down at Steve with a raised eyebrow and offers a hand to help him up: 

“So? Are you coming or not, Pretty Boy?” 

They gather their things and leave without talking to anyone.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please tell me what you think of it! <3
> 
> I have a next part already in mind, I should update sooner this time, lol


End file.
